


Prague

by Vee



Category: Muse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vee/pseuds/Vee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Getting that gold paint off after the 'New Born' video shoot", was the prompt... Well, some things you just have to get organic about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prague

"..when in fact David seems hell-bent on covering me in paint whenever possible. You, too, for that matter." 

Dom had been only half-listening. "They're filming some sort of Hollywood movie here, too, I heard. That kid is in it, that Australian wanker everyone's talking about. Supposed to be a period movie or something." 

"Dom, this isn't coming off, I'm telling you for the last time." 

Why would it be the last time? Why couldn't the last time have been the last time? Why did Matt insist on making ultimatums when no specific engagement of consequence had been lain? Formerly interested in the view from the hotel room in Prague, Dom stepped away and leaned in on the doorjamb of the washroom, regarding with barely-contained amusement Matt's efforts to scrub away the fairly neon yellow body paint. His sharp cheekbones made his frown seem even more dour, and the kohl still lingering around his eyes completed the look. "Like Robert Smith meets The Simpsons, innit?" He sniggered. 

"Oh, fuck off, is it _not_ amusing! How'd you get yours off, anyway?" 

"Didn't really," Dom shrugged and stepped a little ways into the cramped, efficient washroom. The toilet touched the back of his legs when he maneuvered next to Matt for a look at the source of his ire, "he just put a lot less on me, I suppose. Oh, yeah, this is just caked on, fuck." He reached up and touched the side of Matt's face, twisting his lip in a passing moment of disgust as he fingered the waxy paint that seemed like it wanted to flake off but just couldn't thanks to its water-fast composition. "Ew." 

"Well if you were thinking we could go out or something tonight, I'm not for it. I was knackered to begin with and now I'm just fed up," he slapped the coarse hotel washcloth against the sink and stormed out, around and past Dom somehow. Dom, who maintained a cheerfully bemused expression. "Let's just stay in and get pissed out of our minds instead." 

He rubbed his head when he sank onto the edge of the bed, suggesting that, if anything, a generous amount of alcohol would do little more than exacerbate an already-present headache, unless it wound up to be one of those cases wherein the opposite actually occurred. Oh, how he hoped. 

"You're such a tit," Dom tsk'ed at him and checked for any new voicemail notifications on his mobile before sheathing it, "I did bring a bottle of rum though, care to try that?" 

"Don't care for rum, makes me ill." Matt fell back onto the bed, still bright yellow and dressed in black and wearing the most disapproving of all expressions. 

"You're going to drink it anyway, I know you are." With a roll of his neck, Dom rubbed his hands together before producing the bottle of expensive-looking, caramel-colored liquor, and then craned around for any sign of glasses. 

"I just want to get this fucking paint off, Dom." Matt was indeed being a tit, and a more vocal one than usual, curling up onto the bed and kicking petulantly.

Rolling his eyes, Dom began to drink from the bottle when there were no glasses to be found. "Well at least get out of that jacket, anyway. It cost you a small fortune, and now it's got paint all over it probably." He recognized his own parental tone, but there was nothing parental about the way he climbed over to the bed and, sighing, plopped down on top of Matt, straddling his slim waist to pull the zipper down. The body paint had only rubbed off a little on the high collar of the jacket, but Dom still shook his head as he laid it open for Matt, exposing him to the cool air of the room. "I don't know, maybe there's some mystery solvent we'll need to ask for, to get that shit off." He dismounted and turned around. While he did, Matt sat up and wrestled the jacket from his body, tossing it wherever because what did it matter how much it cost? That wasn't the issue at hand. 

"Damn, it's cold in here. What, is the thermostat broken?" He hugged himself, still as bratty as before. 

"This will sort you right out, I keep saying." Unconcerned with intruding on Matt's space, Dom sat on the bed again, taking over the lap this time. He took a big swig of rum, and then tipped the bottle back on Matt's lips, holding his chin up. For his part, he was rather warm. And there was something about forcing Matt to swallow something (specifically from a thick, phallic bottleneck) that only helped that feeling. Ah, yes, and the champion tosses of rum he was taking. 

Coughing only slightly, licking his lips, Matt was suddenly and visibly seized by a Brilliant Idea. "You know, it _is_ cool in here. But on set, they'd only have to keep caking this paint on when the lights were up. When I was sweating." 

Dom stood up again, smiling now, always glad to hear it even if it made no sense. He checked his phone again, back turned to Matt. Still no messages. "So...? What's that mean?" 

"It means I have to sweat it off is what it means." 

Impassively, Dom drank. "What, like go play a game of footie or something? I'll pass on that, but thank you." 

A beat as Matt watched him darkly, and then he vaulted off the bed and launched himself at Dom, who was just as concerned with holding the heavy bottle out of harm's way as he was with the little yellow man suddenly kissing him, pawing at him, grinding up against him. "You taste all waxy." He murmured between their mouths. 

"Yeah, it's a goddamn shame we can't do anything about that." His hands stole beneath Dom's shirt, almost incompetently eager. 

"You need to work on that, sometimes it's hard to tell whether you're being sarcastic or not," Dom smirked and held the bottle between them again. A drink for him, a drink for his favorite, fuckable frontman. The rum flowed over Matt's lips this time and ran down, and though he made a sound of discontentment at the indignity, the feeling was soon replaced by Dom's lips finding the wandering bead of liquor as it crawled over his collarbone. He sucked hard, there, "there are a few places I can think of to kiss you that I'd have no problem getting at, the way things are." 

He pulled at the the long over-hang of Matt's belt, which was only way too long because Matt was way too skinny. Not too skinny, really, though. _Juuuust_ right, as certain fairy tales might put it if they were inclined to story into the realm of hip-grabbing filthy buggery.

"Yeah, seems that's what your mouth is saying, but what is your mouth _doing_ about it? Talk talk talk." 

"Get on the bed." Another swig. 

Ten minutes later, he had succeded in making good on his game, sucking and teasing Matt's cock, lapping beneath and tonguing his arsehole with firm appreciation for the fingers that were clutching at his back enthusiastically. Dom had thrown Matt's knees over his shoulders - it was the easiest way to keep him in order. 

He paused in his work to drink again, the burn of the rum hitting Matt on the tender skin where Dom's tongue plunged back in, drawing a musical grunt and a balled fist on his back. Dom chuckled as Matt pulled the bottle from him, shifting up just enough in his position to imbibe as well. "Oh god... _fuck_ me, Dominic..." 

It was just an over-enthusastic vocal ejaculation, the kind to which Matt was commonly prone, but it took everything in Dom's power not to reply with a smug "my pleasure" as he started to fuck him with two, then three, saliva-slicked fingers. The Eastern European gymnasts could wait. They'd have another night in Prague, after all. For now, what better way to spend the night in than with fine rum and fine bum?

Shuddering, happily trying to catch his breath, Matt palmed one side of his face. His hand took with it a generous smear of black kohl, and also, to his great delight that was perhaps not so great as the other delight presently at hand, a faint residue of bright yellow paint.

He'd wait for a while to tell Dom that the plan was working. His legs began to rise involuntarily on Dom's shoulders as he scratched his fingers through the short blonde hair and choked: "No, seriously... _fuck me,_ Dominic." 

"My pleasure."


End file.
